


Underneath your clothes (there's the man I chose, there's my territory)

by LettieB



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Dorks in Love, F/M, Hiccup is chief but that's almost irrelevant, Married Sex, Mild Dirty Talking, Naked Cuddling, Pillow Talk, Pregnancy Kink, and it kinda turns them on, and no one was writing it, i have a very niche kink, i just needed to read this ok, it's not problematic or anything, it's quite vanilla when it comes down to it, lowkey though - Freeform, mutual possessive streaks, porn with little plot, they need an heir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 15:31:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17942360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LettieB/pseuds/LettieB
Summary: She scrambles to tangle her fingers in the thick hair at his nape, tugs him down carelessly, desperately, smashes her lips to his in a hard kiss that's more teeth than anything, and before she can stop herself she's pressing the words right into his mouth, harsh as her labored breathing,"Gonna give you an heir"





	Underneath your clothes (there's the man I chose, there's my territory)

**Author's Note:**

> I never write smut. I never really tried, I’m pretty crap at even writing a makeout session. But I got punched in the gut with this very specific kink prompt and I didn’t find any other fic quite like what I wanted to read. It's basically "two married dorks super in love think making a baby is hot" and a bit of related dirty talking. It's pretty vanilla, actually, it's kinda cute.
> 
> So here we are. Have some mild hiccstrid filth. 
> 
> Also, a Shakira song title because she is queen

 

 

She doesn’t know what exactly makes her voice the feelings that have been lurking just underneath her skin, threatening to boil over for the past few months. Maybe it'd been the way the milk maids stared at her husband in the market, giggling behind their hands and whispering between themselves. Maybe it was the ring on her finger and the bear-skin over his broadening shoulders, the way he stood taller, how _my wife_ rolled off his tongue with pride and tenderness. Maybe it was the way the man swung her niece up onto his hip and called her _sweetheart_ , maybe it'd been the way her mother had smirked at her and said _he'd do well with the bairns_. Perhaps it was the way she'd catch his half-lidded gaze smoldering against her skin from across the room, how it set her aflame.

Maybe it was the way he'd pull her back into his chest after they made love, and splayed his big hand, with its long, slender fingers over her lower belly, like he wished it didn't lay quite as flat.

He's buried to the hilt inside of her and she's keening underneath him, naked and sweaty and so very near the edge she feels her self-control slip away with every second, she's been biting down on the words fighting to escape the past few weeks, but today just might be too much. It was too much, too fast, and she's too wired. When he tries to pull out, she locks her ankles and pulls him down on her. His pupils are blown wide, he's disheveled, wrecked, a hair's breadth away from spilling and she knows it.

He groans with the effort to hold himself back, looks down at her with something akin to desperation, grunts out, "I'm gonna-"

"Do it," she hisses at him.

"Astrid-"

"Want you. Inside." She scrambles to tangle her fingers in the thick hair at his nape, tugs him down carelessly, desperately, smashes her lips to his in a hard, sloppy kiss that's more teeth and open mouthed exhaling than anything, and before she can stop herself she's pressing the words right into his mouth, harsh as her labored breathing, "Gonna give you an heir"

The effect is almost instantaneous. She knows he's busting at the seams, so much he’d been ready to pull out of her, but there's a swift shift in his countenance. He stills for a second, and then he’s pulling away, sitting back up on his knees and cold spreads over her lower belly. _Oh shit,_ s _he’s fucked up._ They hadn't really talked about this, she'd been taking the herbs and he usually pulls out, they’d obviously had been trying to _avoid_ this situation, now she’s gone and blurted this out and killed the mood. She was _so close too._ God help her if he leaves her hanging right now to _–_ her frantic rambles are cut off by his large hands  encircling her ankles, untangling them from around his waist, and she wants to cry in frustration, except his hands slide up to her knees and he’s… Pushing her thighs up. When she finally finds his face, he’s looking at her with an expression she’d never seen before. Gaze still half-lidded but suddenly sharp, and harsher, almost wild.

His next thrust is harder than before, and the angle is different, it feels like he hits even deeper and the strangled moan that leaves her throat is swallowed by his lips on hers.

He leans forward, and he's not a particularly heavy man, is, in fact, the leanest of all their peers, but the sudden weight on her chest presses her down into the mattress and she feels trapped, and a bit breathless but it's not unpleasant, it's heady. His next thrust drags his pelvic bone against that clutter of nerves at her apex, and his chest slides against her breasts, and she cannot even try to contain the loud keening _"aaah"_ that leaves her throat. It feels so good, so impossibly good, she's _so close–_

And then he lowers his lips to her ear, nips at the skin just below it, and starts _speaking_.

"That what you want, love? Want to carry my babe?"

The fire that had dimmed at her earlier panicked thoughts of scaring him off with her confession rises right back to a blazing inferno. She feels that familiar pressure building and coiling inside her. She wraps her arms around him to tug him even closer down on her, bites hard on his shoulder to keep from screaming. But he doesn't stop there.

"Tell me, Asta. You want to give me an heir?"

"Fuck," she hisses, because his husky voice in her ear spilling her dark thoughts back at her is more than she thought she would get from her awkward, dorky husband, she can't believe he's feeding this fantasy of hers so promptly, _it's so hot._

"’Cause I want to,” he keeps going, “Been wanting to since you swore to me. Since I put that ring on your finger, gave you my name and my bed. Wanna spill inside you, wanna put a baby in you,"

"Oh gods" she throws her head back, hips buck against him of their own volition, an arm darts up to brace against the headboard because his thrusts are getting harder and wilder and she's sliding up on the bed with each one.

And he just– keeps going. Whispering in her ear and driving that coil tighter, she doesn’t know how he’s even managing it with how close they’d both been before, but fuck if she wants it to stop. "Wanna see you grow, wanna see you walk around town carrying my babe, want everyone to know I've done it, wanna show everyone you're _mine_."

That’s what finally brings her over the edge. Something snaps inside her, and she is suddenly crashing like lightning. Like fucking mjolnir hitting the earth from up above. Her hips buck against his once more and her muscles contract around him and she damm near screams, the hand not splayed on the headboard flies back into a tight grip on his hair and mindlessly tugs on it. Her toes curl, her breath leaves her, she completely falls apart. And when she feels him spill inside her as he'd promised, she shudders anew.

She's boneless, entirely spent, couldn't lift a finger if she tried. She's clammy with sweat and gulping for air. Her thighs are trembling. She's trying to find a grip on reality and come down from her high but holy shit. She can't believe _Hiccup_ just dirty-talked the shit out of her. Fuck. Freyja above.

He'd already been practically lying on top of her, but he pretty much loses the strength to keep his weight off her, just drops against her, head nestled against her neck, breath loud and harsh and short against her skin, and it’s not that much more pressure, but he feels a bit heavier now that it's over, a bit more constricting, but it feels good for now. Her grip on his hair loosens, and both her arms lower to wrap around him, hold him to her. She needs to feel him close for now, needs an anchor after flying that high so fast.

"That was," he starts but she cuts him off with a strangled half-laugh.

Breathes out, "Fuck, Hiccup. That was _so hot_."

He breathes out his own laugh against her shoulder. Pulls away from her to look into her eyes. They're still half-lidded, but perhaps it’s more to do with exertion than the raw, smoldering desire from before. Although there's more to find in his gaze now that they're coming down. Amusement. Affection. Her heart is still beating a mile a minute in her chest, but it fills with a warmth much more gentle than that blazing fire. He nuzzles her nose with his own, then presses a single kiss against her lips before he rolls to the side to let her breathe. She has just enough willpower to roll right along and half on top of him. Leg splayed over his hips and arm over his chest, hand finding purchase in the short hair curling behind his ear. She tries to ignore the suddenly cold, clammy sensation between her legs. It's kind of uncomfortable, but she will deal with it later. She cannot move a muscle right now, and her husband isn't much better.

Shit. _Shit_ that was some top notch fucking. She's gonna brag so much next time Ruffnut tries to one up her with her hoe stories.

"So..." Hiccup drags out, one arm wrapped around her, fingers lazily tracing shapes on her damp skin. "That was new."

"I... Yeah." She suddenly feels a bit bashful. It’s not like it was _that_ kinky. When it comes down to it, wanting to make a baby with your husband is pretty vanilla, as far as sex fantasies go. It’s just… The way she’d first said it. _Gonna give you an heir._ And then – they way he’d _answered._

"Was that a-"

"Bit of a fantasy? Yeah. I kind of... Been thinking about it since the wedding. All those matrons giving advice. All of them kept talking about bairns and heirs, and how to get pregnant quicker. I don't know. Back then it annoyed and embarrassed the crap out of me, but after. The wedding. It got me thinking. It's one thing when they're pushing and talking about some hypothetical husband, but... well. It's you."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" He cranes his neck to look at her, but she hides her face against his chest. This was much easier to talk about in the throes of passion. Not that there had been much talking on _her_ part.

It’s a good thing her hair blocks his view, because her face might have gone a bit pink. If it hadn’t been before already. "You know...” she pretty much mumbles, fingers tracing a circle on his chest in a gesture ridiculously shy for someone who’d just fucked her husband’s brains out. “You're my husband. I love you. I want to have children with you. And I... Maybe... _Getoffontheideaofgivingthechiefanheir,_ " she rushed off in one breath. She doesn't even know if he got it at first, but his chest shakes in what she assumes is an attempt to hold in his laughter, and even though she's still a bit embarrassed she might as well confess. "I mean, that little possessive streak back there? It goes both ways, Haddock. Bearing your bairn is as much of a claim to me as it is to you. Gonna show all those damn milk maids in the market you're _mine,"_ she growls, and this time he outright laughs.

His other arm closes around her thigh to jostle her even further on top of him.  He kisses the top of her head, and she can practically feel the smile in his voice when he finally answers. "That's... really kind of fortunate,” he starts, and she figures that’s a good enough start, “Because... you're my wife. And I love you. And I maybe also get off on the idea of you giving me an heir. You can claim the hell out of me anytime."

She laughs, and the embarrassment leaves her with her next breath. She leans on her elbow and pushes upright enough to look at him properly and there it is, that playful, crooked grin on his lips, and the soft affectionate glow in his green eyes. Her heart just about stutters in her chest. His hair is a mess, his stubble spreads over the lower part of his stupid handsome face in a reddish-brown shadow, there’s a red mark in the shape of her teeth on his shoulder and the braids she wrangles into his hair have come undone from her tugging and _fuck._ She did this to him. He's so fucking attractive, but especially so after she's completely wrecked him.

She knows she's probably too sensitive to start anything, and he needs time to recover, but... She leans in to kiss him, lazily, pushes her tongue into his mouth and swirls against his in a slow, languid kiss that makes her skin tingle. His fingers stop their aimless caress over her spine to purposefully slide down and cup her bum, give it a promising squeeze.

So she finds her husband kind of irresistible. Sue her. She wonders if she can get him to talk more next time, now that he knows what it does to her.

He pulls away just far enough to mumble between kisses, "You know... This is also pretty fortunate... Considering… We kinda do need an heir sometime soon."

Her breath hitches in her throat, and her fingers slide on their own path south.

"We're nothing if not dutiful," she speaks against his lips and he nods seriously.

"Just doing our jobs here."

"Best one so fa-aah" she’s cut off mid sentence when her husband promptly rolls them over once more.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this first attempt at a mild smut. I found it fun and cute and only a bit dirty. Anyway, the muse probably won't jump me again any time soon so thanks for reading this rarity.


End file.
